The Blood that Launched a Thousand Ships
by StorytheBrave
Summary: Bella and the Cullen's travel to Greece as a relaxing week away from Forks. But what they do not see coming is a recreation of the Trojan war with the war prize being Bella herself.
1. Nightmares Come True

_Prologue _

Ideally, I would prefer to travel to Greece on a warm week, full of sunshine and soft breezes that would entice me to be a breeze myself. But, as fate would have it, I am traveling on the most downcast non-sunny week that probably no one in Greece or their ancestors could have predicted. It is warm and humid and too much like Forks for my liking. Of course it was planned to be on this week, and for months, Alice Cullen had played travel agent, using her power to see the absolute _perfect _week for our Grecian vacation. The price of traveling with a troop of vampires is having to research the amount of sun seen, in order to walk around with my fiancé. Plus, they are not allowed to dress like they do at home, with short sleeves and the cutest shorts; in Greece, they are required to cover up their pale skin as much as possible- but without looking conspicuous. While Alice is excited to have a doll to play dress up with in a foreign country- in the latest Gucci, Prada, and Valentino summer lines- I am ready to jump into her own shoes. The more clothes the better.

The trip is considered rehab from the dreary forests of Forks- the irony must not be clear to them- and an early honeymoon for Edward in I. Esme, Alice, and Rosalie have been planning for at least two months, picking hotels, activities, and the like. Carlisle and the boys have been tacking maps and studying up on the local _meals _for the family. While I will be dining on fresh herbs and exotic, delicious dishes seeming to be prepared for queens, my family-to-be will be hunting the country's finest, freshest wildlife.

Apparently, this is the trip I will remember for a lifetime- and hopefully that will be for a few hundred years. The inaugural beginning of family travel. Me, I'm excited to be somewhere _else_, where wedding plans are being stressed over by other families- not mine. To see Grecian goddesses marry, instead of the pale American tripping down the aisle.

This will be a week to _forget. _But I know reality has to hit sooner or later, and by something influenced by the stars, a consequence of sorts, I feel a change in the tide, that will occur on this week, that will change someone's life forever; possibly mine, possibly another's. In the hand I do trust to direct my sail, I set off into a time that could be the vile of pure death for me.

To awake in another country is a strange thing. Your body, which has been relaxed in a daze of dreams, is suddenly alert of the difference. The air smells questioning, and your head exposes- finally- the location of where you are, and then you are calm. In my circumstances, I awake in a tangle of sheets and sweat, so finding the position of myself takes more than mind power. Due to my nightmare, I do not trust the look of the hotel, for in it, I was trapped in the hands of some monster that had claimed me against my will. But, thankfully, Edward emerges from the bathroom, in a cloud of steam and soap, and I know my captor was just a image I created. I am not held against my will here. Edward looks slightly bewildered to see my state, and I'm sure I look like a wide-eyed animal. He extricates me from the sheets and lightly kisses my head; a reassuring truth that everything that happened in my dream was nothing. His golden eyes are sparkling- he's feed.

I sit back down on the untucked sheets and run a hand through my hair- it's a rat's nest. I'm quite sure I've slept too long.

"Edward?" I muse, trying to locate my suitcases. I find them in the hotel's closet, untouched. I look down to see that I am in fact still in my jeans and t-shirt I wore on the plane. Jetlag.

"Yes?" He joins me in leaning against the closest wall.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I ask, turning to him.

"Because you were sleeping." He answers with a crooked smile- sugarcoating it. He knows I hate to waste things- especially time.

"Har har. I'm guessing your family is angry at me." I say, leaning to grab my toiletries out of my duffel and new clothes from my larger suitcase. I should've expected it though. My clothes are not in there.

"Alice." I say between tightly gritted teeth. And when I stand to full height, there she is. Small and smiling like the world is a bunch of candy roses.

"Yes…?" She singsongs, not looking into my eyes.

"My clothes?"

"In an incinerator."

My hand rubs my temples, and I am repeating, _Do not kill her,_ like a mantra.

"Why would they be in an _incinerator_?" A flash of my burning clothes enters my brain. My hands begin to clench and now my own visions of daring dresses and high heels torment me. I open my eyes to scold her

"Pssh! Just kidding, Bella! Wh-why would I put clothes in an incinerator?" She's doubled over like she just played the greatest prank in the whole world.

I roll my eyes and sigh. "Funny joke," I say without any humor. "Now, where's the clothes?" I eye her up and down, like they're hiding on her person.

"Someone's grumpy…" She says it in a baby-voice and looks at Edward like he's responsible.

"Argh! I guess I'm not getting answers out of you today…" _She _is the child. I grumble into the bathroom and can still hear their snickers as I get into the shower.

By the time I've gotten all the knots out of my hair, my stomach is growling. I am about to walk out of the bathroom in my birthday suit when I notice a nameless brown shopping bag on the floor next to the door. A hotel sticky note is on the front proclaiming a large smiley face and a heart, signed by Alice. In it, to my horrible dislike, is a blue dress and shoes that would scare a runway model- but especially me. After grudgingly putting the dress on. It isn't too bad, but I still hate it. The shoes have more straps than I've had to fasten in my life. I walk out of the bathroom characteristically like a clumsy person in heels and almost land myself into the closest. When I finally regain my balance, I notice that it looks like house coming has come through, but I don't doubt that the Cullen's did it. Edward waits patiently by the door, whistling.

"Okay. I'm ready." I fluff out the skirt of the dress and smile sheepishly. He stops whistling and runs his hand through his hair.

"Someone turned you into a Greek," He says before kissing me.

We leave the room hand in hand, headed into the lobby to meet his family, but before we leave, I catch something in the corner of my eye. I could've been wrong, but -and it sounds awfully crazy- there was something small and golden on the bed, on my side. The only reason this bothers me is because, in my nightmare, the thing that woke me up, was that my captor was forcing me to take a bite of a golden apple, and I was refusing. This thought makes my heart beat faster and suddenly, I feel eyes _everywhere_.

Outside, the overcast weather may remind me of Forks, but the difference is everywhere around me. Even in dim light, the island is ancient and stunning. We may be tourists, but the natives act as if we are nothing but seagulls. The first thing we do before setting off on a great walking expedition is take pictures. Everyone straightens their hats and clothing articles. Esme looks lovely in a pair of white silky pants and white heels, with a long sleeved tunic, and a large tan sun hat with sunglasses. Rosalie looks stunning of course. With one of those maxi dress with a big bow and a cream cardigan and black heels. She has a straw floppy hat on and a lot of bracelets. Alice is the flashiest. She has on what looks like a floppy jumpsuit with a black cardigan similar to Rosalie's and tan heels with a tan fedora on her head. She smiles at me like she's Di Vinci looking at the Mona Lisa. All the guys are dresses in jeans or slacks with a hat. Edward has a fedora matching Alice's. It makes me laugh. She laughs with, happy to see me not lunging at her throat anymore. One thing is clear about these people. They travel in style.

The pictures were taken and so began our Grecian trip. Now, I am rubbing my feet, sitting under millions of little lights and trees that guard the outdoor dining area of that night's restaurant. Once we had finished exploring, and twilight came, Rosalie and Alice raced back to the hotel to change from their long sleeves to dresses. Our- or should I say mine, I'm the one eating- restaurant includes a dance floor where the outdoor dining is. Edward dances with Esme while Carlisle has gentlemanly took into his arms a gorgeous Greek woman. They dance like their on a cloud- well Carlisle at least, the woman seems a few steps behind, but they are still moving. The band finishes, and a more modern- American song comes bursting through the speakers, and most of the adults sit while the sulking teens gratefully start their way onto the dance floor. The adults sitting on the long table we all sit at are watching intently as Carlisle and Esme easily groove with the kids. Their performance wins them a round of applause at the end.

As I am clapping, though, something goes cold within me. A new song is playing- this one louder, and many people are now drunk or gorged and are not paying attention to the girl with fear written on her face. When the first cold hand caresses my neck, I'm in the middle of calling to Edward. The touch freezes me to the spot. Two hands are slowly enclosing my neck when I hear the voice. It is like a snake, and it hisses sharply in my ear. He is speaking Italian, I think, but I am a rock. Then, in an accented English, he says,

"They say the gods drank nectar, which kept them immortal. But-ah! The true poison lies beneath porcelain skin-"

He does not finish, for, in a split second, the hands let go and the sound of marbles clinking together at magnitude is heard. The partiers glance behind them for a moment, but then return to the drinks merrily. I, however, run in my bare feet on the stones that pave my way, till I hear the sounds of two predators hissing at each other.

Emmett and Jasper hold him by his arms, while Edward has his head in the crook of his elbow. Alice and Rosalie materialize beside me, as protectors, not friends now. I get a good look at the man and gasp. He is the own from my dreams. He has curly brown hair down to his shoulders and a Mediterranean look about him, and still a olive tone to his pure white skin. He is taller than Edward, but not as tall as Emmett. He does not act afraid, but to be one against three, I would guess he is.

Edward finally looks at me, and his eyes soften. The grip doesn't lessen, though. But suddenly, it's like he regains his strength, because he tosses the boys away like nothing.

"_Do not face me like you have the upper hand. Because I will _always_ have the upper hand._" He growls. Faster than the Cullen's can react, he has my chin lifted up. Once again, he speaks in a foreign language.

"Lay your hands off her, you bastard." Edward is suddenly in a blur of motion with the man. I'm frightened, and glad Edward cannot hear me because I am fearful Edward could be beaten.

"STOP!" I yell, and the motion stops. It is Edward that is pinned this time.

"What will it be my princess, a head on a platter?" The man asks, grinning like a cat.

"What is your name?" I ask, not hearing him.

"Paris." He answers simply, and bows slightly. Edward is growling louder and louder.

"Why were you in my dream?"

"Because I was invited." He grins again.

"No you weren't." I state.

"Well, to me, an open mind is an invitation in itself. But you, my princess, are tough. Even when I am the controller, you still make decisions." He laughs dryly.

"Yes, I'm tough because I didn't invite you."

"Ah, my princess, you have already become soft, like an apple." He winks at me. Paris lets Edward drop to the grass and is back to me. He presents the golden apple between our faces, dangling it by the stem.

"The temptation, you see, should be that I won this for picking the most beautiful goddess." Paris chuckles, and tosses the apple between his hands.

"I'm full, thank you." I say letting it come out between my teeth.

"Oh, my princess, you are going to be a feisty little treat once I take you away from these _Cullens_." He spit's the name. "I will see you sooner than you think." He leans close, and just like that- he's gone.


	2. Consequences

**_A/N Short chapter! Sorry! Little bit of writers block, you know. Just to let you know, this story will be based on historic knowledge of the Trojan War, what I've learned about the Trojan War in Latin class, and my imagination. The plot will definitely not be defined by facts. Although, certain people (I.E. Paris) will remain with their historic names, but I may replace, say, Odysseus with Jasper. Get it? Hopefully you like the way things are panning out. XOXO, Story_**

**_(P.S. Watching Troy as I write this, getting the ideas 'a churnin!)_**

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><p>Fear, is not like fire. Unlike fire, it will not consume itself if you cut off its oxygen supply. Fear will <em>consume <em>you. It will cut off _your _oxygen supply and leave you gasping for air.

The day after Paris, the Cullen's have once again become a protective family. Their focus has drifted from this Greece trip to me. I can feel their hate, although Edward says I don't have to worry about it- they love me, that's why they do this. That is possibly the last thing Edward has spoken to me since meeting Paris. I know he is ashamed at himself for being the weak one in a fight, but I could care less. Now he is in constant conference with his brothers and Carlisle, while Esme, Alice, and Rosalie try to entertain me in my room.

Jasper comes out of Alice and his bedroom and rubs his hands together, looking pleased. It is the end of our third day, and we have all become restless, except- of course- Edward. Who still watches me like a hawk, although I am perfectly safe when I am with his family.

"Well," Jasper clears his throat, slightly smiling. We all look up from our monotonous reading and banal talk. "It looks as if we are safe. Alice has done all she can to see anything coming, and nothing has shown up out of the ordinary." We are all smiling, belated that we are going to be able to get back to our vacation- and out of these rooms. "As I see it- from a military point of view- what Paris said about "seeing you sooner than you think" was purely cowardly talk. Men who brag about their abilities are usually the type to back down." I look around the room to find every one's face glowing- but, of course, I find a dark shadow lurking by the bathroom. Edward.

"I do not agree." Edward says darkly.

"Why not, Edward? Why can't you see that sometimes things do not happen, and all the worrying is for nothing. Why can't your family just enjoy themselves without me being a burden?" This is between me and Edward, and I hope he sees I'm sincere about this. _I _want to know why.

"Bella. Please, you do not understand." And I can tell he's closing his eyes, with conflicted feelings.

"What do I not understand, Edward?" I'm standing.

"You cannot see the dangers _we _see. My family's job is to protect you- and it is especially _my _responsibility." Edward is out of the shadows, and his eyes are dangerously black. Abruptly, our tension is broken by his fist going through the hotel's wall. I can see him breaking under the cover of manliness.

Before I know it, Alice has a cold hand in the crook of my arm and I'm led out of the room. We walk swiftly through the hallways, and into the warm weather. The day is much like the others, only a little warmer. Esme and Rosalie are with us, and all three of them have perky smiles on.

"We just wanted to get you out of there before, you know, he broke down. You do not want to witness that." Alice fixes my obstreperous hair. I can feel another pair of hands braiding it, and when I turn Rosalie is the one smiling gently.

"Okay! Who wants something to eat?" Esme says cheerfully, clapping her hands, taking the lead and we follow her into the crowded market. It is relaxing to look at other people, who have nothing else to worry about but what they want to eat. None of them have an overprotective vampire boyfriend, who is most likely destroying a hotel room.

Suddenly, though, we are in a very packed area, congested with sellers yelling their produce, and consumers answering, "How much?" or, "Let me see that!" I almost lose Alice when a man enters our path and tears us apart, but I am able to latch onto her again, my hand finding her cold arm. But I am distracted, because the man who cut us apart is next to a tent and holds up a golden apple to me and smiles. He is unfamiliar and frightening, and then I know. I am not safe anymore.

This is my last thought before my leader pushes a cloth to my mouth, and my eyes are blinded. I fall under a sea of blackness, where the sun doesn't reach, and I succumb to the siren's song.

My hands touch smooth satin, my head feels softness. My body senses it's hot, and my ear hears a quiet mumbling. My eyes blink open, and I stretch out my body. Then a realization stops me. I am starch naked. My gracefull Aurora-like awakening is abruptly ended with me sitting up and gasping, because, there in the little shadows of the room I'm in are two women, gossiping, it seems. They are not shocked to see me sitting, but quietly move toward me. Both are young, and most likely sisters, although they are quite different. One has raven hair that is rather unruly, and piercing eyes, and looks only to be fifteen or sixteen. The other is an exotic looking woman with dark eyes and light hair. The latter is in her twenties it seems. They smile gently, and suddenly, I am not a naked woman, but a woman being served. They never do talk as they style my hair in some ornate way that I doubt I will see anytime soon, because they are just getting started. After an hour or so, a heavy something-or-other is placed on my head. The two then begin my makeup, and I can tell I will not recognize myself. The older sister keeps getting frustrated at me, due to the fact tears keep streaming from my eyes and ruining her handy work. They help me dress in an ancient Greek chiton in dark blue and a gold shawl. They place sandals on my feet and give me golden jewelry. I am finally led out the doors into something unknown.


	3. Dinner

**A/N: Sorry for not updating! My internet has been out since Saturday! But now you have a nice long chapter to read! Hope you enjoy!**

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><p><em>Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity, and so we ask ourselves: will our actions echo across centuries? Will strangers hear our names and wonder who we were, how bravely we fought, how fiercely we loved? <em>

_Odysseus, Troy (2004)_

I feel the push of calmness touch me, and I jerk away, knowing what Jasper is doing. The room is filled with a tension I know I've caused. Emmett lurks near, in order to grab me as soon as I lash out.

"_Don't do it, Edward. You'll only make Esme even _more _upset._" Emmett warns in my head. I look over at Esme, who is on the small chair, distraught and staring out the window. As if she's lost a daughter.

When Alice and the others returned without Bella far too soon, I was in a gentler mood, ready to discuss my reasons softly. But when I could not locate that blurred spot in my brain where Bella usually sat, I wasn't ready for the worst. I was in a state of uncontrollable rage- which is why Esme is not talking to me now. I said things no man should ever say in the presence of a woman, and now I look like a monster.

I know who took Bella. I know that long hair. I _knew _from the moment I was held under his arm that he was something I'd never seen, even in the Volturi coven. Under the muscles of a dead man, lied a strength of something ancient, knowing. His ability to meddle with dreams has giving him a power unknown by our kind.

If I think of Bella too much- what Paris is doing to her, where she might be- I am blinded by a white rage that can lead me to do anything. But she is the only thing I usually can concentrate on when life gets boring or hectic. Now she is the thing that I need distraction from- but where will I find safety?

An image of Bella flashes into my brain and away. Rage, need, and jealousy burns through me.

"Alice! Where. Is. She." I shout, turning to my sister, holding her ground even though I am growling.

"I don't know, Edward. I don't know! She's lost- that's all I know. I'm sorry, but I've done everything, Edward. Everything!" She whimpers and runs into the bedroom. Blocking herself from my sight and mind.

"Great. Fantastic. Who has an idea _now_?" My eyes flash to everyone, even Alice, concealed in the bedroom.

"Edward, _please_." Esme begs. She is next to me, hand on my shoulder. I push away.

I close my mind to everyone, and think. Where would a bastard take a beautiful women? Certainly he wouldn't kill her… My hand punches through a wall. The only thing that breaks through my wall of silence is a small gasping from within the bedroom. Alice, small and paler than usual, searches her way out of the room like a blind woman. But I know what is happening, and I'm sucked in too.

A wall. A tall wall that eats up the land with its length and size. It is dusty and barren, with few patches of grass where I'm standing. But beyond that wall is pastures and forests. The ocean breaks behind me. It is all quite serene, until I see her. She appears on the top of the wall, overlooking the land I stand in. She does not see me. I am a ghost. But she looks behind me, through me. I feel the rumbling, and know what comes behind me, but not it's magnitude. Hundreds of bare-chested men barrel past, glittering in the sun. Hundreds of women join them, the lines increasing and increasing. And for one small moment, I watch as she scans the men and women- and she finds me. Bella smiles.

Alice and I leave the scene, and we know what we've both see. Everyone else in the room is silent, waiting for our newfound information. But Alice and I are in conference.

"_You don't really think he would take her to a recreation of Troy, do you? What does he want, a war?" _Alice asks.

"Yes. I saw into his mind once, and he is cunning. I think he would, and I think a war is what his expects, at the least. I don't know why he wants Bella, though. He seemed to be only interested in her blood, but I don't want to think what that could mean." I shudder.

"_And we're supposed to get an army together? How in hell is that going to happen? To gather every vampire in the world will take time, not to mention werewolves are out of the question- I saw none." _She paces, the others are hanging on my every outspoken word. They are missing half the conversation, but I'm sure they've got the gist.

"Alice, the Trojan War lasted ten years, and if the Paris is going to be exact, well, we've got time." I smirk, and then guilt hits. Not the time to laugh.

"_That helps." _Alice says dryly, but I know we're better- for now. I don't want to tell her, but I have a hunch that this vision was not a coincidence. She wasn't looking anyway. Paris is luring us to him- the sheep to the wolves, I'm sure he thinks. And this won't be the last of his invasions. Because we can't sleep, we can't dream; but a girl with visions is a loophole. Alice is going to be haunted, I fear, for another part of her life.

My servants have led me to a large, high ceiling, stone room with a wall of open spaces looking out onto a dusty field. A reflection pool runs in the middle of the room, surrounded by about twenty seats, spaced by pillars, that have grates on top in order to light a fire. On one end of the pool is a large statue of a Greek god sitting on a throne, with an offering table in front. The opposite end has a larger throne flanked by adjacent smaller thrones. Around the room are marble, smaller, statutes of other gods, all looking down on the empty seats.

After being allowed to gawk for a few minutes, I am required to sit in one of the smaller thrones next to the large one. I have an idea who will sit in the largest. A gong sounds somewhere within this palace, and quickly, people mill in and settle in thrones surrounding the pool. I can tell from here that they are all vampires. Their skin tells it all, but they do not near me, or seem attracted. Some glance my way, then settle back into conversation. Only a few woman reside among the men, but they too are vampires, and seem highly attached to their husbands. Like Alice and Rosalie, they are all beautiful women, but there is a quiet difference. Unlike the Cullen's, these people are not restricted, they act as any human in comfortable company act. Also, they are all olive skinned, like Paris. Suddenly, the chatter dies down, and all eyes are focused on an entrance I cannot see behind me.

The people stand as Paris strides in with a gorgeous woman on his arm. She is lean and lovely, with long auburn hair to her waist that curls gracefully. On her head she wears a wreath of golden leaves, and I guess that is what I have on my head too. Like everyone else in the room, I know she is a vampire, but something does not cause me worry. She sends out a warmth that I would never expect, and next to Paris, she seems to be an ally.

Paris and the woman stand in front of their thrones, eyeing the guests. Paris sits, and so does everyone else. More servants, all of whom are women, walk between the thrones and offer goblets, and I think I know what is in them. My hairs on my neck stand up. Paris says something in Greek, and the guests raise their goblets with him. So this is dinner with a group of civilized vampires.

I sit uncomfortably in my throne, trying to make eye contact with my servants, but they avert me. After what seems an hour, a light hand taps my shoulder. The woman is smiling down on me. Her red eyes do not frighten me, though they should.

"Hello, Isabella." The woman says, her accent light but exotic.

"Hello," I try to keep her eye and not act rude.

"It is Andromache, but you may call me anything shorter than that." She laughs, and I do too. She glances around at all the people who sit by the pool, almost drunk of their drinks. I see Paris gesturing toward me at another man's side, and he smiles- a wicked cat-like thing. Andromache rolls her eyes.

"Do not mind him. He is a child at heart, who is frightened of anything bigger than him. _But_, when he has an idea… the whole world should be on its toes." She slides a series of golden bracelets up on her arm.

"Ah. So you know your husband well?" I want some questions answered, and I feel the wife of my captor could help me get answers. She looks at me quite seriously, and then she laughs. A laugh so loud the servants even look away from the floor.

"Paris-Paris is _not _my husband!" She giggles. "He's my brother-in-law. I am married to Hector." Her eyes fill with a warmth.

"Where is he, I look around her. All these men seem more interested in the young slave girls than their wives.

"He is not here. He's somewhere around this palace, wandering." She leans down and whispers very quietly in my ear, "He does not agree with Paris, he hates the idea of you here. Please laugh now." She stands straight, and I laugh like I've heard the most hysterical thing ever. Andromache smiles, and I smile back. The women on the thrones huff at us.

"Andromache," I say, almost whispering. She leans down again. "Can you bring me to Hector? I would like to hear his side, most likely it is less biased than some." I eye the other women in the room, who have now moved into the closest thrones near Paris, hanging on his ever word.

"I can. Fend off the sheep, though, first." She nods at my servants. I can do that, at least. "Meet me in my chambers. Follow this hallway till you reach the last possible staircase. Our room is on the right, directly below this room." I stand, and she departs out the door she came, no eyes follow her.

I try to make myself appear as sickly as possible. I walk to my servants.

"I feel rather under the weather. I will go to my chambers now. Do not disturb me." I command in my strongest voice.

They nod without lifting their heads.

I feel like a ghost wandering the hall alone. I may be the golden prize, but I am forgotten like rust.

The directions Andromache gave me lead me to a large, pillared room with many cutout windows. From here I can still hear the laughter of the guests above us. A bed sits at the back of the room, next to the last cutout. Andromache waits on a bench, looking out on that barren land before us. But I know she stares far beyond that.

"Isabella! So the sheep are left in the pasture?" She is at my side, arm and arm with me. I nod, and she laughs. "I do pity them, though. Their brothers are brought away to be soldiers. If they are lucky to have children, they are forced to give them up." She sighs and she reverts to the outside world again.

"Andro-" A man in only a towel walks out between pillars. Hector. He is taller than Emmett and his hands could wrap themselves twice around my neck. He isn't as muscular as I've imagined, but I can see the accuracy in his eyes. In those eyes, too, are softness and knowledge, although they are red. His hair is longer than Paris', and adorned with many golden beads. He has a short scruffy beard. He is quite handsome, and I can understand why Andromache acts the way she does when she says his name.

"Andromache, I have told you how I feel about the girl." He gestures to me. "Not you as a person, but you as the object Paris has claimed you as."

"She wanted to speak with you." Andromache says.

"You did? And I would have thought Paris locked you in a chamber and made you mute." He chuckles. "What do you want to know?" He disappears for a moment, but comes back clothed.

I clear my throat.

"Why am I playing Helen against my will?" Hector's eyes crinkle around the edges.


	4. The Beautiful Damned

Hector and Andromache lead me farther into their room, where a small area of plush chairs and a couch that look out over the barren land. They sit across from me, and I against the window. I can feel the heat of the sun on my skin already.

Hector leans his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. The sound makes me jump.

"From what I understand, Paris is after your blood. Now, I can't promise he won't go after your virtue either." This makes both me and Andromache raise our brows. Hector continues.

"But, seeing you are a human, I don't think he will, though, Paris is all about trying new things." Hector doesn't meet my eyes, but even I can hear the cough of a laugh under his breath.

"Why does he want my blood, though?" I ask.

"As I see it, Paris already has immortality, but, like the king who conquers more land than he needs, and the peasant who has one more child than he can feed: he wants to do it because he can."

"Why _me _though." I am still confused.

"That, I do not know. Maybe he can see something I do not. Paris is always thinking, always trying to find new things he hasn't tried. Yes, your beauty does surpass most, and any man would be lucky to have you" -I blush- " but there are many other woman he has seduced. My advice, stay on your guard. Because I do not know when, or how, or why, but Paris is going to do something."

"Thank you, Hector, really-"

"Isabella, do know this: I am not on my brother's good side. Do not use me or Andromache as your alibi, because he will kill you on the spot." He is standing now, and crouched before me, holding my hands. "My wife and I will keep you as safe as we possibly can. I would advise that you question your servants, too. Sometimes, they can be the _best _keepers of secrets." He winks and I smile. Andromache stands and takes my arm. It is now sundown.

"Come," She says. "I'll bring you to your chambers."

As we leave their chambers, I see one glimpse of what these two people mean to each other: Hector grabs Andromache's hand, and looks in her eyes like it is the last time they will see each other and all he can do to say how much he loves her is by holding her hand and speaking through his eyes. My heart is clenched by an invisible hand and I feel my want for Edward bring tears to my eyes. I now know that every moment these to people say goodbye, they know something could happen, because of whatever transpired between Hector and Paris. A palace isn't always the safest place.

The hallway where my own chamber is, is cool and shadowed when Andromache finally reach it. One thing is for sure: this place is massive. It took us probably twenty minutes to cross from one side to the other, due to the different levels and large rooms that took up whole floors by themselves.

"Stay safe, my dear." Andromache puts a hand on my cheek, and it stays there until she sort of shakes herself from a reverie. I blink once and she is gone. I turn into the doorway of my chamber and wish they had electricity here instead of keeping with the whole theme of ancient lighting. I practically kill myself trying to locate my bed in the weak light of the simmering fire pit in the center of the room and the door-like windows that cast in hardly enough moonlight to create shadows. I hear something, though, amongst the crackling fire and the warm wind. I stop.

The soft clack of sandals seems to encircle me. The only weapon I have is the poker next to the pit. I hold it weakly, trying not to breathe. I almost scream as I see the figure emerge in front of a window, then I realize who it is.

"Why did you do that?" I snap at her.

"We- we were sleeping." An accented voice speaks from the dark.

"Please don't punish us!" A higher voice, in the same accent as the other breaks through at an unexpected, but soft scream.

"Is there any other way to get better light?" I ask, a little frenetic, waving the poker around at my two servants.

The clacking hurries and suddenly, the room is ablaze. I see now that along a far wall, there are several pillars that have fire pits atop of them.

"That's better. Thanks." I see them now, heads bowed like obedient dogs. Near them, something attracts me. Food. I'm absolutely famished. A satisfactory-looking platter of a Cornish hen, and side dishes pull me closer. I look around, and there, near a window, is a small table and a chair. On the table is a pleasant place setting with a glass and pitcher among it. I take the plate and serve myself from the platter. There is far too much for me to gorge myself with, even if I tried.

"Would you both," I gesture to the platter, "like some? There are no more plates- sorry- but you are welcome to it." Looking at them both now, I see how skinny they both are. Gaunt. Unhealthy. They move uncertainly at first, then move like vultures, using their hands to eat whatever they can, as quickly as possibly; as if I will pull it away from them. It takes only about five minutes for them to consume the majority of the platter and look guiltily at me. I smile, not wanting them to scurry away. Hopefully this will open them up to me.

As I eat, they clean up after themselves. Disappearing and coming back scrubbed and obedient again.

When I finish, I head to my bed and sit down, trying to act as approachable as possible. I wave them over.

"Sit." I pat the bed, making it sound like a command. They sit on the last possible sliver of the bed.

"What are your names?" They look at each other.

The younger, the one with the piercing blue eyes, says, timidly, "Cassandra."

The older says, "Damarius."

"Cassandra and Damarius," I smile. "they are beautiful names." Both of them smile, gently.

"How long have you been here?" I'll try and get their personal histories out first so maybe I can understand this place better.

"All our lives, as our mother, and our grandmother before her had. Every slave here can trace its genealogy in this palace." Damarius answers strongly, something like pride gleaming in her eyes.

"When did your mother die?" I have a feeling they are numb enough from years of being bossed around to answer my question.

"When I was about nine and Cassandra was seven. You see, most of our mothers had us when they were at least sixteen through eighteen. At twenty five, well, they went on the be used for a 'greater cause'." Sadness seems to cloud Damarius' eyes. If I'm following well enough their mother was sixteen when she had Damarius and eighteen for Cassandra.

"What 'greater cause'?" I have a horrible feeling it's not freedom.

"They are made our master's meals." It is Cassandra who answers.

"Oh." Nausea rolls through me. I swallow. "Who is your father?"

"None of us know. When a male turns sixteen, he and a woman are paired together and given a small home within the city walls. He and the woman must produce as many children as possibly until they both turn eighteen. Usually a pair have only two, maybe three- if they're lucky. The female babies live in the home until they are old enough to serve. The mothers return to the kitchens or the wash rooms. Eighteen for a male is when conscription starts. It's mandatory. Unless you are removed by a physician. Then he becomes part of the 'greater cause' as well." Cassandra is not afraid to tell me everything. I struggle to keep up.

"What if there is a boy born? You can't all be girls." I stop Cassandra.

"We do not know. Boys are more valuable here. Some say that beyond the city limits there is a place that all the baby boys are taken and kept there until they're sixteen." Damarius has recovered and shrugs.

"Ah. Do you have children?" They do not blush as I hoped they would. I figured it was the one thing they weren't hardened to.

"There is a small loophole they have here. Some of us call it a lucky trait. To others, it is a life-long contract to be a piece of pretty meat." Damarius leans close. I am intrigued.

"If you have taken the time to notice, what is similar about all the slaves in this palace?" She asks, dangling the secret in front of me like a carrot.

"You are all skinny…?" I know I am wrong. She wiggles her eyebrows seductively.

"We are all _beautiful_. Much too beautiful to be forced to breed. We are kept virgins and admired from afar. Living sacrifices to the gods. We aren't treated like that, though. Behind the curtains, there is hardly enough food. Maybe a loaf of bread on a good day. Maybe a drop of oil on a bad." She leans away. Now I can see it. All those girls in the dinning hall. There weren't many. I suspect it's rare that these two are sisters and still virgins. I look at Damarius and Cassandra, and realize how gorgeous these two are, even though they are only human.

"We are also the only ones offered immortality." Cassandra brags hollowly. "If, by our twenty-fifth birthday, we have been good little virgins, we have a chance at the good life. But that is a obvious lie. Only _two _of the virgins in the whole history of this palace have ever been given that."

I can see it now. These girls keep themselves chaste and starve and serve for twenty five years and then expect gratification for their lives of pure hell, and then are refused. Sent to be with the other damned.

"It's horrible." I sigh.

"It's survival. The only thing to hope for. Madness isn't rare around here." Damarius clutches her sister's hand. I know this is the most open they've been with anyone that is not a slave. I am grateful. I reach for their intertwined hands.

"Thank you." I look into the eyes of girls who will never be given another choice. Restitution needs to be given.

"For what you've told me, I give you half of what I get for my dinner." Their eyes are shining. They begin to thank me, but I hold up a hand. "In return, would you two be my messengers? I've been forced here for some reason, and I would really appreciate knowing what is coming for me." They nod, giddy with my gift.

"Great." I smile, my alliances are being connected. "By the way, where do you sleep?" I ask while yawning. Cassandra points to a bench against a stone wall. "Both of you?" She nods.

This bed is a king, easily. "You can sleep in my bed, too, if you want." They begin to protest, but I stop them. "It's far too big for me."

The last thing I think before drifting into sleep with the sound of Cassandra and Damarius' breathing in the background is, _"What if they don't come? What is my fate?"_


	5. Gongs

**A/N Just a quick chapter again, but now we're getting closer and closer to the meat of the story. Please review, favorite, or alert- anything means so much to me! **

**P.S. I made a banner with the Trojan ladies of the story- including Bella! The link will be on my profile. Hope you like it! It's my first attempt at that kind of thing, hopefully I'll make some more!**

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><p>I fold my hand over the receiver on my cell phone as Alice's piercing screams fill the air. It ends, and I once again try to smoothly enter back into the conversation I was having.<p>

"We need your help. Please." I am desperate. I run my hand over my worn face. Days are being wasted because not enough vampires are willing to help us. Plus they don't believe us. This is probably the hundredth call I've made today, and less than half have been enthusiastic. Who are we to announce that there is another vampire superpower hiding behind a big wall?

The other end goes quiet, and I hear a click. Dammit. My family, save Alice and Jasper, who are in their bedroom, look expectantly at me.

"No. They don't think we have enough _information._" My head falls into my hands. I am pulled thin. This is it. We'll just have to rely on the ones who do believe us.

"We can do it. I really think we can," Emmett says confidently from his perch on the couch next to Rosalie, she nods. "And maybe these asses are mature enough just to have a discussion. We won't know unless we _try_." Everyone except Rosalie stares at him, empty.

Usually we would have Jasper deal with the battle plans, since he's the only one with military experience. But he's been preoccupied with poor Alice. I knew it would happen, too. Ever since that first vision was given to her she has been haunted by an invisible force. She hasn't gone a day without screaming from a vision. She can't help us by seeing what is happening to Bella because she is too frightened to look for anything with the fear of those horrid vision given to her lurking in the shadows. Jasper is with her every second now, trying to use his abilities to give her feelings of calmness. Sometimes that works. We are somewhat blinded now. Our secret weapon is wounded. Even if I wanted to see what was happening in her visions, I can't. It's like I've been blocked from her mind.

Another shrill scream begins, and then collapses in sobs. Esme has a hand to her heart. Jasper comes out of their bedroom looking ripped open. His face is a portrait of desperation.

"Alice…" He looks behind him, through the bedroom walls, "We need to help her. And the only way seems to be by finding this _Paris _and killing him." Jasper spits Paris' name, his hands ball up into knots.

Carlisle stands up and says, "Yes. You and Emmett are right. We aren't getting anymore takers to come with us. I say we call up the ones that have agreed and head out. The faster we get there, the faster it ends." Esme is holding his hand with her free hand, the one that isn't clutching her heart.

Carlisle knows I will always be the fighting force, so he looks at me, requesting permission. I nod, solemnly.

"But, we don't even know where this place is." Rosalie says, looking at me like I would know.

"True." Carlisle says, sitting down again. We are all lost in thought again.

Softly, we all perk up to the sound of a door creaking open. A fragile Alice, so small and white, shuffles out of the dark of her room. Her voice is barely a whisper and rough.

"I do. He showed it to me."

We all begin to pack.

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><p>I am washed and dressed like yesterday by Cassandra and Damarius. My hair is braided down my back, and I have a white Grecian dress on that hooks on my shoulders with golden clasps. Cassandra puts a pearl necklace around my neck, and Damarius places gold earrings in my ears. They place a sheer white shawl that is embroidered in gold on my made bed and depart soundlessly.<p>

I wander around the room for some time, assuming that they left me with no information because someone would come and get me. I am proven right because I turn around during my pacing and see Andromache, wearing a dark blue dress that clasps at her elbows and wrists, so that sections of her arms are shown. She has a blue shawl on her head, and it floats as long as her dress. She beckons me.

"Isabella. Good morning." She smiles at me, those red eyes warming my heart. "Come. Grab your shawl, we're going into the city!" I grab the my shawl from the bed and follow her, fastening it to my head as we walk. We go down all the levels of the palace, and as we walk I finally start noticing the servants. They are all easily breathtakingly beautiful, and young. I wonder how I hadn't noticed them before.

The bottom of this palace is without windows, so I am following Andromache's born intuition about the place. Finally, I can feel the air shifting, and busier sounds are coming towards us. Andromache turns and we are now on the edge of a full-fledged market.

I look above me and see that the palace is connected to a wall that surrounds me. It is very high and I can see men of their military on top of it. Where we are now is the heart, where the peasants live. Andromache turns to me and smiles.

"A lot better than a stuffy palace, isn't it?"

"Yes, as if it is more real now." I reply over the loudness of the crowds. "Andromache, how did I not hear this before?" I'm practically screaming over the din.

"Because you didn't know what to listen for." She even has to raise her voice.

We must stay in the market place and within the walls, entertaining ourselves with the daily life here that is not locked away in a stone palace, for hours, because by the time I catch my breath and look up into the sky, it is dusk. Something is different, though. Something in the air has made it more electric, dangerous. Andromache grabs my hand and pulls me deeper into the market when the gong sounds. I do not know what it means, but Andromache and all the other people in this place do. A frenzy of sorts begins.

I see a sea of people coming full speed through the massive gates at the head, guards ushering them in roughly. The gong continues to sound, and I am still being pulled, bumping into person after person, and not having time to apologize.

In a far-off corner, under a balcony from the palace, are Cassandra and Damarius. But something is off about Cassandra, she looks pale, and is leaning weakly on Damarius. I pull against Andromache, and she comes with me. We rush against the tide, being cursed at because she is not recognized with her shawl.

When we finally reach them, Cassandra's eyes are wide open, her mouth in a small 'o'. Damarius looks from us to Cassandra helplessly, but I am struck silent. I know that expression a lot better than most. She is having a vision.

"Get her to my chambers, quick!" I point Damarius away, and Andromache is looking at me, bewildered, her expression exploding against the sound of the gong.

"What is happening?" I scream over the noise, who's speed is quickening between each ring.

"The guards on the wall, they've seen something- coming on the sea!" I know she is dying to pull us back into the palace, back to Hector.

"He's here! Edward's here!" I am overwhelmed by the fact he's _come _for me, so much that I practically rip my arm from my socket trying to escape Andromache's tight grip.

"No Isabella! They are bringing people _inside _because something is going to happen out there. We can not risk anyone- even you- running out in a war zone, no matter what!" Her red eyes soften, and she has her cool hand on my cheek.

"Besides, we must get back to your servants. I'm sure they've found something!"

I look longingly over my shoulder one last time before being pulled back into the frenzy, away from Edward.


	6. The Prophecy of Cassandra

**A/N I put another banner on my profile and a link to my playlist that I listen to when I write! Please review, favorite, or alert! Love you guys!**

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><p>In my chambers, Damarius is patting the sweat beads off Cassandra's with a towel. She is mumbling something, and Damarius is shushing her quietly. Andromache surprises me by running to Cassandra's other side and holding her limp hand, cooing like a mother. I drag a low chair over across from her and sit.<p>

"Cassandra, what did you see?" I ask gently. Andromache and Damarius look at me like I'm seeing things. I do not acknowledge them. We all watch Cassandra closely. Finally, slowly and weakly, she opens her eyes and tilts her head on Damarius' shoulder so she's looking at me.

"_So many people… Loud. I could hear them screaming- the women, as the men died…_" She's barley at a whisper.

"What is she talking about?" Damarius eyes me.

"Alice- Edward's sister, of sorts- she has visions. I'm assuming this is Cassandra's first. What happened?" I ask Damarius.

"We were just walking, trying to get back here to clean. Suddenly, she just collapsed in the hall. None of the others would help me, so I dragged her into a deserted room, and gave her water. Then she started to twitch, and her eyes were open, too. I was so frightened. Then the gongs started, and something snapped in her because she stood up rather quickly over to me by the door, and then leaned against me, and I felt all the strength in her go away. The only person I could think of was you to help us, and so I walked her down." She smoothes the lines creasing her sister's forehead. "I just don't want her to die early." That's when Damarius breaks down and sobs.

"But what does Cassandra's vision mean, Isabella?" Andromache has Cassandra leaning on her shoulder now, and uses her free hand to rub Damarius' back.

"I think… I think she saw what is going to happen." I look up at Andromache, who's eyes are blank and seeing through me.

"Hector." She suddenly grabs my arm and seamlessly trades her spot with me, and just like that, she's out the door. Cassandra is suddenly speaking. Damarius' sobs stop and we are completely silent.

"_The men of bronze will attack the men of marble. Ten days will it last and with it will bring a great destruction. Say goodbye to the one's you love. This is the end._" Cassandra stops speaking. Damarius and I are bewildered.

"Your love is here. And he is going to destroy the city…" Damarius looks off, and suddenly, she is laughing. A menacing thing that echoes off the walls and I'm afraid of who will hear.

"Sorry," She says, looking ashamed, "But, if we could be freed… We wouldn't have to die." She smiles at me, and pets Cassandra's hair.

"Damarius. Have you seen Paris?" I ask. She shakes her head no.

"Where could he be? I've only seen him once, and he hasn't spoken a word to me."

"He stays in his chambers mostly, that's what I've heard. You could go there. Just follow this hall to the left and go up to the second to last floor. You'll see it." I pass Cassandra to her. As I leave, I see a new platter of food. "Eat, feed Cassandra. I'll be back." I take off my shawl and straighten my dress.

I follow Damarius' instructions and find myself in a very large chamber that seems to be empty.

"Isabella. Couldn't stay away, my princess?" Paris, naked, appears in front of me. Grinning his cat-like grin.

"I tried, but my hatred got the best of me." I sidestep him.

"I hear your _Cullen's _have arrived. Whatever could they want? I would love to know because my people are quite scared." He sits in a chair that is draped with a bear skin.

"I think you should tell them, you're the one who brought me here." I cross my arms.

"Why do _you _think I've brought you here?" Paris stops smiling. He's serious.

"For some sick satanic ritual that involves me on a sacrificing altar?" I ask.

"I'm guessing you have asked your servants about this, so I'll be brief. You know that we keep certain- ah- girls here in the hopes that they will prove faithful and be a unique addition to our vampire family here, and also become my wife.""Your wife? I didn't hear that. So what happened? I know there has been two women transformed." I ask.

"True. The first one I had to destroy due to her infatuation with leaving. The other I created when I still had feelings for my brother, and so I graciously gave her to him-" I stop him.

"Andromache was a servant?"

"Yes. Have you been talking to her?" I watch his hand squeeze into a fist, his eyebrow questioning me. One false word and I know something bad would happen to her or Hector.

"No. I just heard about your brother and his wife from my servants." _But she didn't tell me she had been a servant. _I think.

"So, I brought you here Isabella to become my wife. I was going to have the ritual earlier, but then I had a glorious idea: a fight! A magnificent battle that will mimic the ancestor's, but hopefully your friends will be a little more creative."

I ground my teeth. "But _why_? Why me? Why not one of the other servants who have worked their whole lives for a chance at immortality?"

"Because, I sense something in you. In your blood. Something I can not explain. That is why I was so intrigued . Also, your beauty is something the gods wouldn't have sacrifice. You are what I've been waiting for all these years of my existence." He has my hand in his, suddenly, he is not a horrible monster, but a boy who needs someone.

"I am not yours to take! I am Edwards. You will never have me willingly!" I march towards the door, ripping my hand from his.

"But I will see you bright and early tomorrow, my princess! What good would the death of your love be without you there." I sense a smile on his lips.

"What good would hell be without you in it?" I scream back and leave. Averting the many eyes of the beautiful servants who expect a longer life, but are looking at the girl going to take it away.


End file.
